#white ghost cicada

[cicada-guy]

relatively old painting i thought i’d share since everyone’s super hyped abt cicadas rn!! this is a white ghost cicada from thailand iirc ! still one of my favourite paintings to this day

[ex0skeletal-undead]

Illustrations by Babs Webb

This artist on Instagram

[ragingbookdragon]

But Are You Really?

COD Boys x Reader Blurbs

**********************************************************************

Price:

She frowned at the guards before her who were too busy chittering to notice her. “Excuse me,” she repeated herself for what seemed like the millionth time. “I’m here to see Jon. Can you please call him?”

One of the guards looked at her and rolled his eyes. “Look love, we were born at night, but it wasn’t last night. Fuck off.”

“I’m telling you, he works here! Jon!”

“There’s a fuck-ton of John’s here, lady, be specific!” the other griped and before she could respond, a voice echoed across the gate.

“Missus Price!”

The guards spun as she made eye contact with the Scotsman jogging over; relief flooded her. “Oh, John, thank goodness.”

Soap looked over the guards. “Is everything alright here?”

One of the men snorted. “Ah, you must be the John she’s looking for, Sergeant. Keeps telling us a John is waiting for her.”

The Scot cocked a brow. “Because the Captain is.”

The two went white. “Wait—you mean, she’s…?”

“Captain Price’s girlfriend? She is.” Soap took her arm in his like a gentleman. “C’mon, Missus Price, I’ll take you to the Skipper.”

Gaz:

“I’m telling you that Kyle is my boyfriend,” she sighed for what seemed like the millionth time.

“Bullshit,” one retorted. “You’re too sexy for a guy like him.”

“First of all, sexy coming from you isn’t a compliment. Secondly, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? ‘A guy like him?’” she glared at them. “Kyle’s a fucking hero and one badass motherfucker who works hand-in-hand with the Captain Jonathan Price while your asses are sitting here guarding a fucking gate.”

The other guard held his gun and took a step towards her. “What did you just say to us?”

She inhaled sharply, suddenly aware that she was very much so unarmed against two armed guards. “I—uh, I—”

“There you are, babe, I thought you got lost.”

They turned to see Gaz coming through the gate, a grin on his face; her sour expression flipped into a dazzling smile, and she greeted him with a kiss that had the guards looking away, and Gaz blushing when they pulled away.

“Nah, the modeling shoot just took a bit longer than I thought.” She took his hand as he walked her through. “Wanna see the promo-shots?”

“Always.”

Soap:

She cocked a hand on her hip and glared at the guards. “Look, I’m not even going to try and be nice. Call John MacTavish down here now.”

“We aren’t privy to taking orders from civilians,” the guard griped. “Get lost, lady.”

“JOHN MACTAVISH! BRING YOUR ASS DOWN HERE NOW!” she bellowed from outside the gates, cupping her hands to her mouth for added distance. “IF I HAVE TO COME IN THERE TO FIND YOU, I’M GOING TO—!”

The guards tried to shush her when a yell echoed from the courtyard, “OR YOU’LL WHAT!” they all spun around to see Soap stomping over. “BEING YOUR BOYFRIEND IS LIKE BEING IN HELL ITSELF!”

“OH, THAT’S RICH CONSIDERING THE FACT THAT YOU KEEP MY FUCKING APARTMENT SEVENTY-SIX WHEN YOU’RE THERE!”

The guards weren’t even going to try and pry the two apart as they yelled in each other’s faces about leaving the toilet seat up and forgetting to unload the dishwasher, but while she had that on him, he seemed to have the fact that she moved his shit around the apartment as revenge.

She tried to walk away, but Soap’s hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist, tugging her back over the base line and into the base. “You let go—”

“Aye, shut ‘ur trap,” he retorted. “Nattering like a fucking cicada in my goddamn ear. Might as well chatted it off.”

“Oh, you fucking bas—”

Ghost:

She could feel the weight of their stares on her, and their laughter chipped away at her mood. “I’m being serious,” she muttered. “Simo—Ghost, and I are dating.”

The guard cackled. “Yeah, and I’m the fucking Queen of England.” He waved her off. “That bastard doesn’t have a girlfriend. Look at him. He doesn’t even have any friends.”

Indignation shot through her, and she got up in the guard’s face. “Simon has friends. He has Price, and Gaz, and Soap. He doesn’t have many, but he does have friends. And he has me. I am Simon’s girlfriend.” Fear dripped in her veins as the guards seemed to stand offensively at her, and she added with her heart pounding in her chest, “And I’m as cowardly as they come, but if it came to it, I…I would lay down my life for him. The world needs Simon. I need Simon. He’s a hero and a better man than either of you.”

One raised their hand at her, either to strike her or intimidate her with a feint but his hand didn’t get farther than beside his head when someone grabbed it, spun him around and slammed him against the wall. “You gonna strike a civilian, soldier?” a cold voice rumbled behind his ear. “That’s an offense I’d see you punished for. Even more so for it being my lover.”

Her expression eased as she saw Ghost appear before her. “Simon,” she murmured, and his eyes darted to hers, softening a quick moment before turning frigid again.

“If you ever raise a hand to her again, I’ll cut it off and make you eat it one finger at a time. Am I clear?”

“Crystal!” the guard hurried and Ghost shoved him to the ground and secured a hand around her waist, bringing her over the gate.

“C’mon, love.” His voice was low and gravelly. “Sorry about that. Tried to come earlier but the meeting ran late.”

“You were there when I needed you,” she replied, leaning her head against his chest. “Like a knight in masked armor.”

He looked at her, eyes shining in a way that told her he was smiling at her.

[gravehags]

sweet treat

pairing: cardinal copia x curator!reader (plus bonus ghoulettes)

rating: T for suggestive content

tags: summertime activities, gelato, ghoulettes cockblocking (affectionately), flirting, copia plotting

~~~

"Ah, feels good to be home!"

The man walking at your side turns to you with a devilish grin, reaching behind you to grip you by the ass and pull you towards him, chuckling sinisterly.

"Copia," you giggle, playfully shoving him away, "you're insatiable."

"Sì, and? I don't recall hearing any complaints about it last night when I had you bent over so prettily an--"

"Copia!" you stage whisper, looking around the silent country road. The only sounds in the warm air are cicadas buzzing and your footfalls on the hot pavement.

"Dolcezza, there is no one around but us. If I wanted to pull you into that bush over there and have my wicked way with you, there would be no one to save you."

Well that's a thought. You stop and consider it, ultimately deciding--

"Hey!" a feminine voice calls in the distance, "Wait up!"

Copia groans in frustration as the two of you turn and behold two figures lightly jogging towards you. You immediately recognize them as Copia's ghoulettes - Cumulus and Cirrus. They've abandoned their uniforms for something more weather appropriate - glamours cast. Cumulus' long white curls are piled high on her head in a messy bun, and she looks sweet enough to eat in her tanktop and Daisy Dukes. Cirrus, on the other hand, with her long dark hair, wears a pair of loose basketball shorts and a sports bra. They're both smiling as they approach, panting in the summer heat.

"Afternoon ladies," you say, "You wanted to get gelato too?"

Cumulus nods eagerly while Cirrus gives you a playful little eye roll.

"Mind if we tag along?"

You turn to Copia who looks as though he does, in fact, mind, but you also know he adores his ghoulettes and can't deny them anything, much like he can't with you.

"Come along, bellezze mie," he says, waving them into step with you. You really liked the ghoulettes - thought they were so charming (and beautiful), you never complained about an opportunity to chat with them. Cumulus slings an arm around your waist and pulls you close.

"He treating you right?" she whispers loudly, causing Copia to whip his head around with a pout. You laugh and lean into her.

"Yeah he's not half bad," you whisper back, giving the ladies a wink, "Just between us girls I'm using him for his money but he doesn't know that okay?"

Cirrus snorts loudly and grins.

"How much does being a Satanic cardinal pay these days, huh?"

"Since becoming the head of the Ghost project," Copia interjects loudly and archly, "A considerable amount. But that's entirely none of your business, ghoulette."

The ladies dramatically "ooooo" while you bump his arm with your shoulder.

"He's just sensitive because Imperator had to confiscate the Ministry credit card."

"Amore!" he squawks, glaring at you. You shrug with a smile.

"Boss what did you buy that pissed Imperator off that much?" Cumulus inquires, highly intrigued.

He's really pouting now, mustache twitching as he frowns deeply.

"I don't want to talk about it."

They look to you and you mime a zipping motion over your lips, giving them an apologetic, yet amused, glance.

The four of you walk in silence for a few minutes and you reach up to wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. Which is also sweaty so it really doesn't make much difference.

"This humidity, huh?" you pant, using the hem of your sundress as a fan for your legs, "You girls must hate it."

"We do," they say in sync, "but we run cooler by nature so that does help."

"Oh yeah?" you ask, fascinated, "because you're air ghouls? Or do you have some other infernal secret?"

"The air ghoul thing," Cirrus confirms before waving you over to her, "C'mere"

You step over to her and she looks to Copia for a moment, who nods, before wrapping her arms around you. All of a sudden you're awash with deliciously chilled air, and the feeling makes you moan. Cumulus, not wanting to be left out, embraces you from behind with a grin.

"It's like being inside an ice cream sandwich," you marvel, "This is divine. Copia have you tried this? Copia?"

The man in question is standing, watching the three of you with a peculiar look in his eye. If you didn't know any better you'd say it was...hungry. Predatory, even. It's as if he doesn't hear you as his gaze flicks between the three of you. The ghoulettes catch him staring and slowly pull away, the loss of your air conditioners making you whine.

"Come on, village is close," Cirrus says and you spot her giving Copia a wink and a grin. You have the distinct feeling that a plot is being hatched but before you can air your suspicions, Cumulus grabs you by the hand and drags you up the street.

"Look at these!" she gushes, gesturing to the small yellow climbing roses on one of the storefronts. She reaches up and picks a bundle, tucking it behind your ear with a soft smile.

"Beautiful," she murmurs, "they suit you."

Something about the way she regards you makes butterflies flit around in your stomach and you open your mouth to thank her when Cirrus and Copia catch up to you. Copia gives you a soft, knowing look that makes you cock your head but you stay quiet. The gelato shop is only a few doors down and is mercifully quiet. The owner knows the two of you by name and greets you warmly. You all place your orders (stracciatella for you, lemon for Copia, mandarin for Cirrus, and fior di latte for Cumulus) and step outside with your prizes.

"Stracciatella," Copia sniffs, "You've been spending too much time with Terzo."

"Oh excuse me, signore," you say archly, "Not all of us like sour fruit flavors. Next time I'm ordering two scoops just to piss you off even harder."

Cirrus snorts mid spoonful and looks at Cumulus, who grins into her treat.

"Guys," you say, playfulness dropping from your face and voice, "I have some really fucking bad news."

Copia looks so intensely concerned as he comes to your side and cups your elbow you nearly laugh.

"Dolcezza, what is it, what's wrong?"

"We've got to walk all the way back to the fucking abbey after this."

A silence falls on the three of you before Copia speaks.

"I'm calling a ghoul to pick us up."

[riaki]

— last train at 25 o' clock | suguru geto x reader fluff(???)/light angst @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat please take this bc coffee shop geto is gonna take a bit

it's 1am in the morning, the train platform's a ghost town, and the hum of the vending machine is all the noise in the world as you and suguru wait for the last ride home after a mission.

wc : 2.6k cw : brief mentions of blood ; references to hidden inventory arc , shoko typical smoking , probably some other stuff i'm forgettin not proofread!!!! also he may be ooc srry

i cooked this up last minute cus i remembered my promise of posting every weekend last week so my bad if u can tell its rushed lol post hidden inventory pre defection

suguru remembers it like it was yesterday.

the song of summer insects reaches your ear as you clamber up to the train station platform; a pandemonium of cicadas and crickets that sing odes to the full moon in the sky partially curtained by dark clouds and the dew on the grass that's begun to form.

"damn, it's hot." you muttered, wiping your forehead as your arm shot out to grab the dirty railing, white paint cracked and peeled as a splinter pricks your fingers and you flinch. suguru follows after you; a small hum is your acknowledgment.

"careful. shoko doesn't like dealing with splinters," he says from behind you, stepping up the stairs two at a time to straighten up on the train platform, hands in his pockets. “i don’t have reversed curse technique healing either.” there's the smell of a storm in the air, and the lights overhead buzz and flicker with the intermittent beat of a moth's wings. you just give a dip of your head in acknowledgement as you pry your hand away from the railing, the scent of old wood lingering on your hand as you wipe off the dust clinging to your palm on your pants.

(geez, you two have no sense for these types of things.)

suguru holds a hand out, and you take it eagerly to let him pull you up the last step, before politely letting go and slipping it back into his pocket once more. you let out an exhausted sigh and stand up, rubbing your tired eyes as you look around.

the platform is deserted save for the stray cat beneath the station bench, sniffing at a clump of weeds growing from the metal leg. there's a vending machine up against the wall to the elevator, an obnoxious painted 'out of order' sign on the lift's muddy glass doors, stained with dust, dirt, and fingerprints. there's some... creative graffiti on the wall, and a starch yellow section of caution tape flutters in the humid evening wind.

the cat scratches at the concrete floor, and its matted white fur and crystal blue eyes remind you of someone. you glance up at suguru, poking his arm to get his attention.

"look. it's satoru." you huffed, still a little loose for breath as you reach out and grab his shoulder, leaning against him for support. the dark-haired boy just laughs a little, taking his phone out to snap a picture and no doubt send it to the white-haired brat. "i see it." he leans a little closer to you; it's subtle, and you don't notice it, but the way his shoulders sag just so you have an easier time holding on speaks volumes. "don't send it to him! he's probably asleep right now. think it's past his evening sugar high?" you asked, glancing up at him with a tilt of your head.

"most likely. i think he got sent on another solo mission today." there's a tiny bitter bite to suguru's voice that underlines its usual velvetiness; like an ocean current beneath the waves that you only find once you've been dragged underwater. you don't say anything about it, though. the sleeves of his uniform crumple beneath your fingers when they curl into the fabric, a shiver running down your spine as goosebumps spring up on your skin like shroom caps after the summer rain.

suguru is observant.

"you cold? you can have my jacket." it's immediate, and his voice is as smooth as cream silk and marble as he shrugs your hand off (much to your dismay-- shown with a bite to your cheek) to unbutton his uniform jacket, slipping it off his shoulders and offering it to you. when you stand there, feeling a little daze and a lot tired, he just smiles, shoving it in your face with a low chuckle that sounds like honey pouring from a jar.

"you sure? you can hug a cursed spirit if you get cold, 'cus you're not getting it back." you sighed after a moment, reluctantly taking his jacket and tugging it over your shoulders. it's warm, and it smells like his cologne- like some natural incense that soothes your nerves and loosens your body to the marrow in your weary bones. you bury your nose in it and forget to think about the warm hue on your cheeks that you'll later chalk up to the humid air.

"i'm sure." the cat by the bench perks up, staring directly in your direction. it yawns, before bounding away, disappearing behind the vending machine with a flick of its cloud white tail. the machine is missing a few rows of drinks, but the green of a melon soda can that's far too saturated to have a name to the original fruit and the cream and red of a yakult bottle are enough to catch your eyes beneath the harsh light of the display.

"still don't understand how you get cold on a night like this, though." he makes a gesture towards 'this' with one hand, fingers flexing in a way that makes your heart flutter unreasonably.

a moment of silence passes; you can see the distant lights of some prefecture over the hill, and your mind briefly wanders to rainy afternoons, puddles reflecting the red neon of passing cars and distorted faces under plastic umbrellas sandwiched between painted concrete and a dark sky.

"you want a drink? on me, as thanks." you say, breaking the sound of silence and nodding towards the vending machine as you look up at suguru. it takes him a moment to respond, so you use the opportunity to admire his profile; the slope of his nose, the deep hazel of his eyes that shine a copper rust beneath the pale yellow light overhead. his hair is a little messy; it's falling out of its slicked back bun, a product of your earlier fight. there's a scrape on your ankle from tripping through the bush in an attempt to put distance between the curse when you had been engaged earlier; it still stings. there's a tightness to his jaw, you notice- and some part of you wishes you could take it for yourself.

the section of dark hair in front of his face sways as he turns to look down at you, gaze charting the corners of your face (your cheeks look soft, he notes) before he opens his mouth to speak.

one kick to the machine, a disappointed frown when nothing comes out, and two yen bills later, the pop of can tabs fills your ears as condensation seeps into your skin, a pleasant relief from the heaviness of the summer air. it's too much when the cold side of a drink is pressed to your cheek, though-- and you let out a yelp of protest, shooting a quick glare up at suguru, who just laughs it off and takes a sip of his drink.

you down a sip of your own; it's a sweet fruit tea that's your go to whenever it's hot out. sweet, citrusy, like starfruit. it tastes like a summer of youth and a warm blue spring. it's pleasant.

a distant rumble echoes from the dark horizon, and both of your gazes simultaneously snap towards it-- at last, you think. the last train is here. you adjust suguru's jacket around your shoulders, catching a whiff of something that smells like rosemary and new leather as his voice fills your ears.

it's an easy night when you pass the threshold and step into the train car, speckled white floors and blue hard seats greeting you. somewhere, there's a ticket stuffed into one of your pockets; a memento of late evenings that blend into early mornings when there's a bruise on your face and a knick on suguru's wrist that soothe themselves with the harmony of small talk and sensation of fizzling bubbles in cold metal cans as the train jostles you along. you're sitting, and he's standing, one arm on the hangers overhead as you talk about everything and nothing. he catches himself every now and then, watching with minimal interest as the sliding doors part themselves like gateways to the afterlife for ghost passengers. it's not your stop yet; far from it.

"say, suguru-- do you miss going on missions with satoru?" you asked after a moment, fingers drumming against your knees as the automated voice overhead announces the next stop, empty farm plots and tangles of wire passing by as the lights inside cozy houses dim and go off.

he doesn't answer that, so you just look out the window.

(suguru, you gettin' enough sleep? heatstroke?)

"how's the cut on your leg?" he finally murmurs after a moment, his eyelids heavy before he tears his gaze away from a tacky advertising on the wall and back to your scrunched nose.

"annoying." you just sighed, and you watched as he gave a small smile; his eyes fluttering shut, long lashes resting against his cheeks. you wondered if the wings of a butterfly would be heavy enough to weigh them down.

he moves after a second, sitting down one seat away from you in a swift motion and beckoning for you to lift your leg. you comply, not entirely sure where it's going- until he gently rolls the hem of your pant leg up, pressing the cold edge of his half-empty soda to the angry red scratch, and you wince a little before letting out one, long sigh. you melt into the chair, feeling like a senior citizen with a hunched back and one too many shrine visits under a bleached kyoto sun.

"thanks." you mumbled, leaning your head against the window as the train jostles ever so slightly to its own tracked rhythm.

he just hums in response, pulling a worn bandaid out of his pocket; the plastic top has pen smudges on it and the white wax gets caught between his pearly teeth as he tugs it off, taking time to make sure he positions the healing strip properly before flattening it down on your leg.

"shoko makes no sense when she talks about her reversed curse technique, so this'll do." he says quietly, and you let yourself fall into the pool of molasses that comes from his throat as you close your eyes, feeling the dull sensation of pain drain from your muscles and melt away like the first waves of spring and the ripple of lake water as a lone sakura petal disturbs the mirrored blue surface.

"i could learn it." you said after a moment, pressing your lips together in an attempt to snuff out the feeling of his fingers lingering on your skin, toying with the loose edge of the bandaid. he just snorts, and you crack one eye open to glare at him.

the rest of the train ride is spent in silence; you slip in and out of a hazy sleep, and you're faintly aware of the timeline-- somehow, your drink ends up on his lips. your head ends up on his shoulder, and your ears pick up his quickened heartbeat. his warmth is nothing like the humidity that clings to your skin like a layer of smoke and vapor, accompanied by sticky dango and raucous laughter weaving between the sounds of fireworks and the crunch of dirt beneath pairs of geta. he smells like home and his soft hair tickles your face as your little breaths squeeze past your parted lips, a warmth like bumping shoulders and linking fingers seeping into your body like the steady stream of fine sand in an hourglass. a warmth like empty classrooms lit by golden hour; windows cracked open to let in a fresh breeze as the faint smell of cigarette smoke drifts up to the room from the brunette and her lighter beneath the patch of shade from a tree in the courtyard below.

(need a light?)

this is how it's been for the past month. tired mumbles and hushed murmurs exchanged between two people who are more than friends but less than lovers after each harrowing mission; shared drinks and linked pinkies, the warmth that stains cheeks rosy when fingers that look small against calloused ones brush with another hand reaching for the metal pole on the train. heavy silence as you fall asleep on his shoulder; faint tingles when his fingers graze your knuckles as he stares at the dark reflection in the windows across. even the windows know how to make him relax.

one day, it'll be just him. a white bird stained black by apollo's hand in a sea of dirty geese, silent as the others hawk and squawk for a place on the lake. one hand hooked around the hard plastic of a hanger, supporting heavy shoulders with weight that could rival atlas' burden. a boy so tired of being beaten by the waves that he succumbs to the undercurrent with the same practice as before, only the paint on the railings has chipped past repair and not even the greenery of the countryside can touch the stains on the windows to his soul; eyes that used to shine with mirth and crinkle with gentle smiles become sunken and heavy with experience more suited to those a decade older.

he'd already chosen his path when he offered his jacket to you; when he laughed at the way you'd sneezed after investigating the patch of weed that had captured the stray cat's attention from before. and he knew that you'd noticed, and he knew that you'd try, and he knew that he wouldn't let you.

he knew when he woke you up with a gentle nudge to the forehead, suppressing the fluttering feeling in the heart he didn't know he still had when you made a grumpy tired face and stood up with much effort and a stumble or two.

(damn monkeys.)

it was easy nights like these that he'd eventually miss the most. walking you back to your dorm, past the candy wrappers and empty cola cans in the halls stained with imaginary blood and passing glances. departing with a kiss goodbye when he knew you were too drowsy and delirious to be able to remember it come morning.

the swing of a jazz rhythm would get stuck in his throat when you stumbled, only catching yourself from the jolt of the train's stop by latching a hand onto his wrist like some evil little lamprey and muttering a small 'sorry'. he'd laugh it off, collect the empty bottles of drinks of debt, and tug on the sleeve of his jacket on your arms, gently helping you off the platform as your pant leg slid back down to cover the bandaid on your leg, rough fabric scratching away the ghost of his touch on your skin. he wished it would just stay for a little longer.

and when the morning came and you woke up in your bed with his scent on the fabric of your shirt, you'd do it all over again. the only part of the terrible cycle he ever took pleasure in. even when the vile taste of a cursed spirit sunk into his stomach, it would be washed away with the right pop and fizzle of sugary drink followed by an even sweeter kiss to the knot between his tired eyes.

there was nothing about your time together he wouldn't ever miss.

you'd be his past, his present, and his afterlife. even when it was his turn to get off the ghost train and step past those sliding doors that held new meaning, you were the last thought on his mind.

one day, he hopes to see you again, when the last train comes in the night so late it could be considered early morning and the platform can relive old memories of peeling paint on a past summer spring once more.

hope u guys enjoyed the catoru cameo my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[wordsofhoneydew]

🌟 fic rec friday 🌟

9:42, nyu apartment by @cricketnationrise

If you’d told Alex ten years ago that he’d love being pinned to his own couch and kissed to within an inch of his life by Henry fucking Fox, he’d have laughed in your face.

on my knees (i’m aphrodite) by luisasfalsegod

“Baby, we gotta start getting ready for dinner. Ma’ is gonna kill me if I‘m not on time.” June murmurs.

“Tell me to stop and I will” Nora rasps.

June shivers, goosebumps rising on her skin. “Something tells me you don’t want me to” Nora smiles as she cocks her head.

“Oh my god” June whines.

Nora unhooks her bra, pulling it off June‘s body impatiently. She ghosts a hot breath across June‘s skin, delighting in the fact that her nipples are turning harder by the second.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” Nora asks, looking up at June with serious eyes.

Or the one where June and Nora are forced to attend a state dinner at the White House when all they wanna do is fuck

You’re Gonna Go Far by @inexplicablymine

He would let the rich pavement and wide open highways take him home. Texas bluebonnet wild, cicada strong, sideways pampas grass floating freeways situated between wildfire season and the inevitable downpour of hail that tramples Mother Nature's roadside finger paintings.

But he fucking can’t.

Because New York City doesn’t have cicadas; it has cockroaches.

He can’t take the key around his neck and let it be a homing device—protective shield across his heart when he’s run out of air and the gas tank goes low.

Or, After the dust settles and the Brownstone becomes home, it should all be okay. So why does it all still feel so hard?

Is it casual now? by ncfariouvs

There are a couple things in this world that are absolutely unbearable for Alex.

The sound of her parents fighting, for one. She still remembers it, the yelling, that is. It was always so loud that even headphones couldn’t cancel out the noise.

Another thing she cannot fucking stand is when people don’t know how to make good coffee. It’s not that fucking hard.

Thirdly, people not letting her explain herself. She fucking hates being blamed for things that she didn’t do without having the chance to defend herself.

There are a couple more extreme ones, such as racists, bigots, and outright assholes…

But one thing she can’t fucking stand at this particular moment is the snobby, blonde, British girl in her English class who always has her nose stuck in a fucking book.

Henri fucking Fox.

no control (all yours) by @comethedaylight

Alex feels the first twinge in his bladder as he’s moving to the fridge to grab the water pitcher, an ache that’s sharp at first, but settles into something manageable, something almost… exciting. Like a buzz under his skin that he wants to ride out, like a high.

He’s been at this point before, after one too many coffees during late night study sessions in undergrad, too distracted by his readings to take a break, but the difference between then and now is he would just cut his losses. He’d feel that first ache and get up, bookmark his spot and nip it in the bud, but that’s not the plan tonight.

Tonight, he refills his bottle, lays back on the couch, and turns to his phone.

or alex learns something about himself while trying to learn more about his husband

no bunny compares to you by winterpine

Henry is a lot of things as a person and while much of his personality transfers over to his bunny form, his physical attributes do not. Most notably, his size.

Where Alex’s boyfriend stands tall and regal, his furry counterpart is small and fluffy, unable to summit even the most minor of obstacles.

Take their sofa, for one. Alex is watching TV and minding his own business, when he hears a steady thump from just below him. Peering over the edge of the dark cushion, he spots his boyfriend angrily pounding his back foot against the carpet.

“Ha! Is my little bun too tiny to get up here on his own?” Alex teases. He’s promptly rewarded with a whisker twitch followed by a nose scrunch. Henry is pouting and it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever witnessed.

or, five times Henry shapeshifts for himself and one time he does it for Alex

never wanna stop (‘cause your taste is so divine) by strawbgrl

Henry grins in contentment and rakes his fingernails along the backs of Alex’s thighs. “There’s my good boy,” he praises. Alex muffles a whine into the bend of his elbow and Henry watches in astonishment as he relaxes against the mattress. The verbal approval settles deep in Alex’s bones. “I knew you hadn’t forgotten your manners. You just needed a bit of a reminder. Isn’t that right, darling?”

Henry gives, and Alex takes.

l’échappatoire by @anincompletelist

A sea of dark curls. Warm, kind eyes. A slanted, smiling mouth, a dimple carved into the side. One hand holding a tall, steaming coffee, the other a mug full of Henry’s favorite tea. A whisper, a brush of fingertips in the trade off. The more important details.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

It’d be something out of Henry’s most treasured fantasies if he didn’t already know they’d be the last words this man ever says.

Henry fixes anomalies in other people's timelines. It's quite predictable and impersonal work for the most part. (Save for when it seems intent on unraveling his own, of course.)

Don’t Let Them Eat Cake by Magentarivers

Something shifted in the breath between them.

"Are you going to say something sappy?”

“Maybe.” Henry grinned tightly, as though caught red handed.

“Okay good, because me too. You go first.”

It's the night after their anniversary party, and the boys just want to do what any husbands want to do. Unfortunately they are parents first.

I’ll Wait for your Love (1 day before the Reddit Post) by Swoonoveryou

Alex sends Henry flowers for their friendship anniversary. What does this mean? After all these signs, does this mean Alex could actually like him?

He thinks maybe asking the internet might help.

Vegas, Baby by @porcelainmortal

“Hold on, Nora. I need some luck.” Alex holds out his hand, a pair of dice cradled in his palm. “Blow for luck?” He winks and throws Henry a devastatingly gorgeous smile.

Henry’s breath catches in his throat but he manages to inhale sharply before blowing on the dice in Alex’s hand. Alex’s pupils dilate as his eyes are drawn to Henry’s lips. Henry feels as if time has stopped, but he can hear the people at the table still talking and the bells of the machines going off around them. Nora nudges Alex with her elbow, seeming to break the spell Henry and Alex have been under. Alex’s attention is ripped away and he turns, throwing the dice down the middle of the table.

OR, Alex & Henry meet in Vegas, get drunk, and get married. Woops.

[trashmouth-richie]

UNNIEEEEE I'M SO PROUD OF YOU FOR 200 FOLLOWERSSS, I LOVE YA NANCY! So for my two words, I gotta stick with the memes

Eddie, Roof and Sexy

Eddie x best friend! female! Reader

w.c: 1.6k

Warnings: NO MINORS gtfo you little shits, go on GIT! smut, outdoor sex

The heat of the hail damaged tin roof stung at your bare shoulder as you rolled over from the blanket. Eddie’s body heavy against yours as his large hands wrapped around the small of your back, coaxing the sweat stuck tank top up your body, exposing your chest.

The late summer winds, muggy and dense, clung through the air as the lightening bugs flitted past your heads. The cicadas already long finished with their mating song for the night—mosquitos out for midnight snacking hours.

You were certain the neighbors could see, thirty pack of Miller High Life or not, and nascar highlights blaring on their outdoor tv, they could still see your silhouettes colliding together on the roof of the Munson trailer.

It started out innocent, as all things with Eddie did. “Do you trust me?” The charming little bastard had a smile that could kill, demon grin on a cherub face, the perfect combination. Everytime Eddie had started with those words it never ended well. His idea last summer of skinny dipping in Lover’s Lake on the 4th of July ended with you both having the embarrassing ride home in Hopper’s police vehicle as he hounded you on indecent exposure charges. Or when you were pre teens and Eddie promised he could drive but ended up backing Wayne’s truck into the line of the trailer park mailboxes, watching them tumble over like dominos. Wayne was pissed and you forfeited your piggy bank over to help Eddie pay for the damages. Or a few months ago when you had graduated and after getting his diploma, Eddie decided to show the crowd full of tearful parents and anxious grads to be, the white of his ass after flipping Principal Higgins the bird.

He was reckless and insubordinate. A royal grade A pain in the ass. But he was your best friend and no matter how ridiculous his shenanigans were you never said no. So tonight when he asked you to scale the teetering ladder he stole from the Pickley’s shed to climb atop the roof to eat spaghetti-o’s and listen to Metallica, you had no idea it would spark the sexual tension fireworks that had been building for years.

The weed didn’t help, you always felt a little more relaxed and a tiny bit horny when you smoked. And Eddie? He was always horny, always handsy but not in a perverted way, just a mouthy fucker. So it came as no surprise when you were leaned back into arms, joint snug against your lips, Eddie plucking it out and tilting your chin up to him, lips ghosting over yours, as he whispered, “do you trust me?”

A smirk dances across your face as you snuggle into the crook of his arm reaching a hand up to his face and pulling him down gently to you. His lips brush yours as the sweetest kiss falls between you both. He smelled like weed and the musk of his shitty knock off cologne. He tasted like the cheap tomato sauce in spaghetti o’s and the slight hint of spearmint gum. Your body is suddenly hungry for him, needing him deep inside you. He lays you down, shoulders skidding against the heat of the roof. The denim of your cutoff shorts rubbing against his jeans, creating a friction that made your core throb. Eddie licked into your mouth, soft moans slipping out as his hands shakily worked your tank top further and further up your chest.

Your hands tangled in his hair as he kissed along the slant of your neck, hands gripped tight on your tits as he finger rolled your nipples. You arch your back into him, shoving his mouth against your body, starving for the wet pool of his tongue to lap against your skin. Thank God the trailer park lights went out years ago. And thank God the City of Hawkins never found the time or money to replace it.

Eddie kisses his way down your body, tongue flicking against the sweat of your skin, tugging slightly at the button on your shorts as he slides them off your hips, throwing them, like a jackass, off the roof and into the tall grass behind the trailer. “Oops,” his face looks sheepish as he realizes what he did. You roll your eyes and push his head into your panties, relishing in the jut of his nose against your sensitive bud. Moaning against the heel of Eddie’s hand as he finger hooks your panties and yanks them down slowly, he lets out a gasp as your soaked panties cling to your pussy. “You’re so sexy… should have done this sooner.” He murmurs, eyes locked on yours as he dives into your folds; lapping, sucking, and spitting on your drenched cunt. His thick fingers are tugging at the plush of your hips, gripping your thighs out wider and wider as his tongue strokes around your clit. Your high comes embarrassingly quick, your fingernails scratching at his skull pulling his hair like an old lady pulling weeds in a garden. The guttural moans you are eliciting are louder than life, Eddie purrs into your cunt sopping up your juices as he sucks on your clit.

When you can’t handle it anymore you nudge him off of you, squeezing your thighs together to let the pressure build up. Eddie sits on his heels, coaxing you up and on his lap, your soaked pussy drenching his jeans as his hard cock jumps against the zipper. You kiss him deeply, lips sticky with your arousal as you nip at his earlobes. The neck of his shirt in your grip as you yank it over his head. His curls falling against his fading sunburnt shoulders. He holds you close against him, bodies slick with sweat as he paints the inside of your mouth with his tongue.

Many things go unnoticed when you’re just friends. Like the way his muscles in his broad shoulders move as his hands caress your back. The plumpness of his pillowy lips, delicately kissing your neck as you pull away for a quick breath. The softness of his hair as you twirl it into your fingers, the honeyed muddy silk bouncing back into place as you release it.

He shimmies his jeans past his knees as your pussy slots against his cock, rocking your hips against him. “I need you,” you moan into his ear. He lifts his hips and lays you down again, this time making sure to get you on the blanket. He places an arm on your side as he slips his boxers off. Your right leg curls around his hip, his hand running down the length of your leg grabbing onto the flesh of your hip. His eyes are colossal and full of lust, as he stares into you. Before he can ask, you answer for him, “I trust you.”

Eddie’s ruddy tip rubs between the slick of your folds, both of you moaning into each other's mouths at the ecstasy inducing sensation. He slides his thick cock into you, slowly at first kissing you sweetly as your pussy engulfs him inch by inch. He’s bigger than anyone you’d been with. Thicker than you could even imagine. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the stretch is almost too much, your fingers digging into Eddie’s taut back as he pushes into you, his eyes searching for face for the okay to keep going. You nod an approval as he slips deeper into your velvet folds. You pant out for him as he sinks to the hilt. Moaning his name as he pumps slowly into you, Eddie whispers into your ear, “you’re so perfect baby, fuck tight little pussy t-mmm taking me so good.”

You're a whimpering mess beneath him as he hikes your thigh higher up his waist. He reached between you and rubs around your clit. The lewd noises of him slamming against your wet pussy echo across the trailer park. The moon shines against the sheen of sweat trickling down his body as he brings your leg up against his shoulder, the new angle makes his dick thrust into your spongey g spot. Explicits leave your tongue as your orgasm creeps across your body, you’re almost there. “Eddie, I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

He slams into you harder, his sack slapping heavy against your ass. His fingers dig into your plushy thighs as ropes of his hot cum fill you up, you’re not far behind him as your high peaks. Sending a rippling of pleasure from your hair follicles to the tips of your toes. Eddie continues to fuck into you slowly as he softens, hissing as your combined cum leaks from your throbbing pussy. Eddie lays his full weight on you, too high and too weak to move as your ragged breaths teeter down to normal. Not even in your wildest dreams did you imagine sex with Eddie could be so passionate. “Stay with me,” he whispers into your ear, kissing it lightly as he roles off of you and onto his back. His hair cascading wildly around him.

“‘course,” you answer. You and Eddie spend the night on the roof, talking and giggling as you smoke more weed and fuck into the earlier morning hours, orgasm timed perfectly with the sunrise. Waking to the familiar hacking cough of Wayne Munson as he steps outside for his morning cigarette. “Eddie,” you hiss.

“Hmm?” He groans as he wipes drool from his chin, “what’s wrong?”

“Wayne was home the whole time!?” you whisper yell, throwing your hand over your face in embarrassment.

“Fuck, I didn’t tell you that?”

[ajearthlinggg]

My opinions on all Will Wood music videos

momento mori MAP: the first Will Wood related thing I saw thanks to my brother. I remember seeing it and being like "Wow this is so okay." Not really one of my fav songs but still really good animation from everybody

Mr. Capgras: (oh my god this is my end) honestly in my top 3 favorite music videos (number 2 and 1 are even more sexual 😭 the karma music video ain't shit idgaf) I have dressed as Will from this video (the outfit when he looks like an auntie) and I will NOT be posting the photos BC y'know, underage. But just it matches the song's vibe so well and is incredibly visually interesting. Will's makeup is on point (as always) and him and his band's outfits (or lack of) also manage to fit the vibe of the song perfectly. I read an interview he did about the music video and had to look up like, ten words. Someone make this man an English teacher. Anyway, amazing video. Give Mario more screen time.

Dr Sunshine: somehow WAY more uncomfortable then Mr. Capgras. Once again, Will's makeup is great. There are so many goddamn colors I don't know if I love it or if I want the video banned because of it. It's great how the video goes from a normal kinda weird WWATT video to incredibly uncomfortable and strange as soon as he goes bald. Great video. William, the cones in my eyes feel great resentment towards you.

Hand me my shovel: OMGG I PLAYED A BIT OF THIS ON PIANO AT MY PIANO LESSON AND MY MUSIC TEACHER PUT UP THE MUSIC VIDEO IN FRONT OF MY DAD AHAJSJJZJ (he luckily stopped after the intro) anyways I fucking hate this video for creating one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. 10/10. Fuck you.

Euthanasia: no. Don't even remind me. Please. *incredibly loud ugly sobbing noises*

Laplace's Angel : haha this video has so much bones that it should be called Skeleton Appreciation Day! *gets booed of stage* anyways great video. Wills outfit is so cool. You know the one. Bnoes bnones bnes. Lemmed ssee yior bneons.

Sex, drugs, and rock and roll : GUYS THIS VIDEO IS MOSTLY SATIRE PLEASEEE. watching Will throw tomatoes at himself is beautiful. 10/10 viewing experience

Love, Me Normally: First WW video I watched as a real fan of his music. Omg I love this video. He said in a YouTube comment that the rats were his girlfriend's at the time. I can just imagine the conversation "Hey can I borrow your RATS for my MUSIC VIDEO about CONFORMITY?" Also the first WW fanart I drew was of this video so that's pretty cool. Anyways I love the ghosts and the hat falls off his head like every 2 seconds go watch the video you'll see what I mean.

2econd 2ight 2eer: this used to be my fav WW song before I was a WW fan. Anyways THE MAKEUP ONSGDJAHSJ this video made me question my lesbianism like HIS EYELINER AAAAAA. But anyway once again lots of colors. Like, LOTS of colors. I already have eyesight problems William once again THE CONES IN MY EYES HATE YOU. AHSJSJKAAKA. Also thank you to this song for giving my lovely mutual his username. (Hi Syd)

Chemical Overreaction: This song and music video is my new aesthetic. That's all I have to say.

6up 5oh: I remember when my brother was obsessed with this song back in 2020 😭 HOLY SHIT I HEAR POLICE SIRENS RN THEY'RE ON TO ME DELETE THIS SONG FROM MY WATCH HISTORY RN FUCK FUCK FUCK. Ig this video is pretty good. Not one of my fav videos but its alright.

You Liked This: You even both like Subway, Eat Fresh!

Well, better than the alternative : omg the filter and artsyle is so cool. Also the Stranger Things references, the masks, the outline of the filter, it's so 2020 and it makes me sad. WHAT'S SO WRONG ABOUT WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME? I'M JUST TRYNA DO WHAT'S RIGHT BY YOU?

Tomcat disposables: please I'm gonna cry again. OH MY GOD WILL IS SO FUCKING TALENTED

Cicada days and Marsha, thankk you: not really a fan of lyrics videos. Decided to group the lyric vids together to say this.

White Noise: as somebody who's struggles with the topics this song speaks about, there really is no Will Wood song that affects me emotionally more than this one. Not Against the Kitchen Floor. Not Tomcat disposables. Hell, not even Euthanasia. This song in particular is so underappreciated and pushed aside instead of being recognised as an emotional, hard hitting, meaningful, lyrical masterpiece, and the video only adds to that. The symbolism from the excitement the people get over nothing makes so much sense after paying attention to the lyrics. Also holy shit he's bald again.

2012: the way his fans treat the topic of this song kinda is so weird. Like, he did so much drugs that he FORGOT A WHOLE FUCKING YEAR. and his fans are just like "haha funny I don't remember hehe" anyways this video for some reason is like Criminal by Fiona Apple if she took 12 edibles and believed in aliens. Not saying it's anything like that but that's just the vibes it gives me. I love Fiona and Criminal is top 2 fav music videos for me so I have no complaints 👍

Wealth and Hellness: not really a WW music video but I love this song so much and Will did an awesome fucking job directing the video. I love Human Zoo and can't wait to see if they ever will collab with Will again. Also all that conspiracy bullshit was insane.

Wealth and Hellness (censored version): Wonderful video! Perfect for my Christian family! Praise the community guidelines! 🙏🙏😇😇😇

[wazzappp]

I am a woman of weak will with no excuse for this @moosemonstrous thank you for being my most trusted enabler advisor and @cicada-candy thank you for your encouragement <3

WOE. GHOST RIDER MAGICAL GIRL AU HELLFIRE GALA FITS BE UPON YE.

Ok so the first genre is High fashion/Familiar themed!

Robbie is in something edgy and asymmetrical. Lots of variations in texture with solid, glitter and mesh areas. A fun grungy makeup style that I thought would suit him well. The more solid areas have a snakeskin texture that I'm not sure came through in the image export sorry lol. Delicate silver pieces help to balance out the harshness of the general aesthetic of the dress. Overall tried to mimic the slithering motion of a snake with the twisting pattern of his dress materials and made it a little more obvious with the snake bracelet.

Danny's focuses on layered sheer materials. Lots of feather and wing embroidery to connect him to his familiar. Nice silver chain around the waist to give the dress some shape and structure and help separate the top and bottom areas. Leg slit to create some interest so things aren't too symmetrical and boring (also you have moose to thank for the boob window lmao). A fun little wing pendant for the back detail ties it together pretty well I think.

JOHNNYYYYYYYYYY pulled a LOT of Avril Lavigne vibes and I'm honestly not sure why. I guess I just really wanted to see in some 'trashy' Y2K fashion (trashy in quotation marks cause I think it's COOL actually) and she's the first person that came into mind. Fur at the top of the dress contrasts with the shiny/glitter material on the rest of it. White tips on the ends of his boots and gloves because of Zaradogs lil sock feet <3. A fun ponytail with some black chain necklaces finishes everything pretty well.

FRANK. DIFFICULT AS ALWAYS. HAD to include fur I had to connect him to Cat-stle somehow. Other than that his look is very Matrix inspired. Very slick and fairly practical. SPIKY ass boots and a fun laceup back add some detail to the otherwise very simple fit. Some mesh areas on the jacket also include just a little bit of variation in texture.

BALLROOM LOOKS!! We getting FANCY.

Something light and fun for Robbie with LOTS of gradient chiffon. A more solid waist wrap to help eccentuate a more solid shape for the more drifting ends of the dress. I'm a sucker for sheer sleeves brother I have no excuse.

EEEEEE PRINCESS DANNY COMING THROUGH!! I LOVE how this one came out! Fun off the shoulder moment with gloves to make sure his arms don't look too plain. Faux silver corset that dissolves into layers of sheer glittery material to form a full length ballgown with lots of nice volume.

JOHNNY YOU GAVE ME TROUBLE. Wanted to include lots of geometric shapes (moose and I looked at QUITE A FEW reference images) so I was able to fit that in with the tessellation patterns on the sleeves and mesh sides, as well as the triangular shape of the top area of the dress. Tried not to overdo the gold glitter by limiting it to a strip down the middle with longer black panels on the sides.

Frank with a VERY classic look I'm a sucker for a square top. He's also got the fun mesh sleeves, this time with some lace patterns. Layered skirt with a bit of volume and glitter ends (I'm a SUCKER for glitter ends). Vibrant red top to show off his signature color with some ribbing to mimic a corset.

AFTER PARTY DRESSES. Fuckin. Euphoria lookin ass dresses. Idk man I just love these kinds of dresses and thought I would go ham at the end for one final nonsense fun look.

[xzerosparrowx]

For week seven of @astrangersummer

Prompt: "or maybe we don't." / laugh | wc: 1,061 | Rating: M | cw: drug use, mentions of a dead character (Barbara) | tags: skinny dipping, night swimming, trespassing, inspired by Pablo Neruda, soft love, Steve PoV.

-

like sunshine on skin, a warm blanket in winter.

“... I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love…” - Pablo Neruda (One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII)

The leaves rustle gently in the balmy summer breeze, the hum of crickets and cicadas fill the air like music and in the gentle darkness of a clear night Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson lounge on the rooftop of the Harrington house.

Milky white smoke curls in the air between them, the heady scent of earth, pine, and plum fill their lungs until their limbs are slow and deliberate. The stars are bright and clear, pinpricks of light against the expansive, endless darkness, and in the blue night, Steve cannot help but think that Eddie Munson is beautiful.

“So, you don't like swimming in your own pool?” Eddie breathes out, holding out the blunt for Steve to take.

The hairs on Steve's arm stand on end when the brush against Eddie's fingers is warm and electric. “Yeah,” he says, sucking in the smoke, “I have this dream where I'm in there doing breast stroke or something and every time I come up for air I'd see her sitting at the edge of the pool looking at me.” Steve recalls, taking another hit, holding it out to Eddie.

“Fuck man, that's rough,” Eddie mumbles, bringing the joint to his mouth. They're silent for a few moments, basking in the stillness of night.

Steve can see the jagged scar that cuts into the pale skin of Eddie's jaw, a blooming drop of blood against fresh snow. He knows there are more scars all over Eddie's body, more splatters of blood. Steve has only been able to peek at those ones, glances through partially open bathroom doors, and loose singlets at gigs. He wants to touch all of them, to feel Eddie against his lips, and know that he is warm and alive.

“But other pools you're ok swimming in?” Eddie asks, giving the joint back to Steve.

Steve shrugs “yeah, I guess,” he answers, taking the last hit and stubbing the joint on the tile beneath him.

“Well, that does it then,” Eddie stands, brushing off non-existent dirt from his black jeans.

“What?”

“I feel like going for a swim, and we can't go in the one you see ghosts in,” Eddie explains, climbing through the window that leads into Steve's bedroom.

“Is it Hagan or Carver that's got a pool?” Eddie asks when Steve follows him down the stairs.

“Hagan, but Carver lives near Lovers Lake. I think they got like a dock or something,” Steve rambles. He's still following Eddie, the other boy opening the door to the garage and making a beeline to Steve's bike.

“Lovers Lake can get fucked,” Eddie scoffs, pushing the bike to the garage door just as Steve pushes the button to open it. It's only when Eddie is already halfway down the driveway, swinging a leg over the bike that Steve's brain catches up.

“Hey hey hey hey,” he runs, placing his hands on the handlebars, “or how about maybe we don't go over to Tommy's to use his pool?”

“And why not?”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, the other settling on his hip “shit man, cause it’s the middle of the night. They're gonna be asleep.”

Eddie cackles, bright and loud, a soft look in his eyes as if Steve were a particularly cute puppy “that's kind of the point, Stevie.”

“We don't have any swimming trunks,” Steve adds, not really knowing the point he is trying to make.

“Night swimming and skinny dipping usually go hand in hand, big boy,” Eddie concludes, the large grin on his face softening into something else.

“Ok fine, but I'm dri- I'm gonna be the one riding the bike, you're no-muscle-having-legs won't be able to push the bike with both of us on it.”

Eddie gets off the bike with a bark of laughter, and Steve hops on, taking a large steadying breath when he feels Eddie's hands on his shoulders as the other boy stands on the bike behind him.

It is not a long bike ride. The Hagan's are practically neighbors, separated by a bit of the forest surrounding them. Eddie climbs off, and Steve follows, their footsteps silent as they approach the wooden fence that cuts the backyard off to the rest of the world. Steve watches Eddie climb smoothly over it, and he wonders if the guy has done this before.

Steve lands on the other side without issue, his eyes landing on Eddie, who is already standing by the edge of the pool and toeing off his shoes.

They take off their clothes in silence, casting them aside in a heap until the pair are in nothing but their boxer briefs. Steve's eyes roam the planes of Eddie's torso, the badges of survival pinned all over.

“Steve,” he hears Eddie whisper, the low voice bringing him back so their eyes meet.

It is a slow process, but Steve's heart quickens when Eddie’s ringed hands toy with the waistband of their underwear, his mouth going dry the further Eddie pulls them down. Steve wants to touch. God, he wants to touch him.

“Your turn,” Eddie says, throwing his underwear to the pile of clothes. Steve quickly follows suit, his eyes latched onto Eddie, watching the other boy watching him.

They don't dive in the water. Instead, they slowly slip in, the cool water sending a rush of goosebumps over Steve's skin. They laugh quietly together, breathy and hesitant, the thrill and fear of trespassing and being caught thrumming between them. They swim in circles around each other, a string between them that pulls them closer second by second until they are only a breath away.

Steve cannot look away from Eddie. Not when Eddie closes his eyes. Or when his fingers lightly caress Eddie's jaw. And never when the boy leans into the touch.

“Eddie,” Steve whispers, saying his name like a promise, a confession, a prayer, and permission.

It is not fast or loud. There are no dark clouds of doubt and fear. It is a slow, gentle thing, a truth like golden sunshine against skin, a warm blanket in winter. It is simple and uncomplicated.

Steve loves Eddie.

[thingsic]

white ghost cicada

[moosemonstrous]

Ghost Rider Magical Girl AU

yeah you read that right - check out the tag I'm just following the brilliance of @cicada-candy and @wazzappp

At first, Robbie thinks he must be dead. He drove straight into a wall at forty miles per hour, by all means he should be dead.

This is like the fourth time you’re having this freak out, the snake mutters, coiling around the steering wheel. It flicks the wipers on with his tail, the blades struggling to scrape off the black substance covering the windshield. A ghostly body slowly evaporates from the hood.

Robbie blinks. He’s on the other side of the building, as if he drove right through it. When he looks over his shoulder, through the miraculously intact rear window, all he can see is a solid brick wall of the warehouse.

See? The snake hisses. He sounds incredibly smug. Told ya it would work. I think you got them—

Just to hammer down how rarely the snake is right about anything, he’s interrupted by a loud bang on the roof of the car. It’s promptly followed by manic scratching, like the ghost is trying to claw its way in.

Well, shit, the snake observes. You’re gonna have to get out to deal with this one.

“Like hell I’m getting out.” Robbie turns the key in the ignition to start the car again, the engine rumbling to life with a shower of pink sparks on the dashboard, because this is his life now, apparently. When he tries to step on the gas, he ends up jamming the ridiculous heel of his boots into the floor. “These fucking boots—” He tries again, only for his foot to slip right off the pedal. “Come on!”

The scratching intensifies. It’s gonna take the paint off! The snake shouts, like that isn’t a mind-boggling event all of it’s own. Get the hell out and kick its ass!

“You think I can stand in these?!” Robbie nearly broke his leg running back to the car when the ghosts attacked him outside the auto shop. Just because injuries don’t seem to stick when he’s in this stupid fucking outfit doesn’t mean he wants to try that again, much less kick anything. Inches above his head, the ghost shrieks in rage.

How hard can it be?! It’s just shoes! Women do it all the time!

“Not without– training, or something!”

The next warehouse is only a few meters away, and Robbie is an excellent driver, but he’s not exactly flying under the best conditions right now. If he can’t control the car, he’s going to end up–

A set of hooked talons breaks through the passenger window, the half-melted ghostly face lowering itself down after it. His options rapidly diminishing, Robbie grabs one of the bedazzled white hammers he ends up holding after every transformation and throws it at the creature, hitting it right in the nose. It wails in pain, but doesn’t stop it’s torturous crawl inside.

Get the other hammer! Don’t just throw it, keep hitting it!

Robbie does. He’s dimly aware he’s screaming the entire time, the black blood spraying out of the ghost and onto his white gloves, but eventually the ghost goes limp. It gives one last forlorn moan before dissolving into nothing. Robbie waits a couple of seconds, struggling to catch his breath, before he risks sticking his head through the broken window to see if this was the last one.

No more ghosts. The night is quiet again, the colours returning back to their regular L.A. light pollution levels. He falls back into the driver seat heavily, chin against his chest, which puts him in the inconvenient position of staring right down at the pink fucking gem embedded in his sternum.

On top of everything else, why does it have to be this violently pink?

That could’ve gone worse, the snake slithers across the dashboard to audit the damage to the window. Don’t turn back yet, the glass will repair itself in a few minutes.

“Why can’t it do that when I’m normal?” he mutters. He doesn’t want to be wearing a dress for a moment longer than it’s strictly necessary.

It’s just faster this way, quit whining.

Just to add insult to injury, the gunk doesn’t disappear with all the other magical shit. At least it looks more like motor oil than anything else – it’s enough of a pain to clean it up every time without someone calling the cops because Robbie keeps leaving dark alleyways covered in actual blood. With a sigh, he reaches under the seat to retrieve the paper towels and the disinfectant. It’s easier if he wipes it off right away.

Someone clears their throat outside. The snake shoots his head up, instantly wary, while Robbie ducks down – the last thing he wants is for anyone to see him like this, ghost blood notwithstanding.

“Hi,” he hears, before the crunch of gravel closing in on the car. “That wasn’t half bad.”

Robbie turns back around just in time for a blonde man in a leather jacket to lean down to peer through his window. He looks remarkably unfazed by having witnessed someone hammer thin air into submission, although he does look a little surprised when he takes in Robbie’s whole… thing. He gestures for him to roll down the window, and Robbie does, mostly out of sheer confusion.

There’s a motorcycle parked a few meters behind him. How long has he been here?

“Uh,” the man takes a second to collect himself. “Damn, sorry, I thought you were an actual girl.”

Robbie’s going to grow an entire beard as soon as he gets out of here.

He’s a witness, the snake hisses. You need to get rid of him.

“Hey, now,” the man protests. “That won’t be necessary.”

“You can hear him?” Robbie asks dumbly, pointing at the snake. “Did you–see? All that?”

The man inspects his nails while he talks. They’re painted flame-bright orange. It doesn’t really fit his general biker aesthetic, and Robbie feels something like hope kindle low in his chest.

“I think you and I should have a conversation,” the man says. Then, as if a hilarious joke just occurred to him, grins and adds: “Magical girl to magical girl.”

[haifoct]

lwj and chili sauce thoughts?

Ah yes, chengzhan and chili sauce thoughts you mean? I yelled at your question, then took it way too seriously than I first anticipated.

The wide, extravagant halls of Carp Tower resounded with Lan Zhan’s loud footsteps. Uncharacteristically hurried and heavy with a persistent attempt to escape—perhaps to hide somewhere or drown himself in the nearest fountain.

Lanling had never been a place Lan Zhan was eager to visit. Unlike his brother, who was aching to stay a little longer, impatient to fly down the mountains a little sooner, and determined to drag Lan Zhan with him, to his sure doom.

"It would be advisable to get accustomed to the current state of jianghu. It’s been three years, Wangji," Lan Xichen’s smile had wavered, the corners of his lips tugged down by Lan Zhan’s failures and incompetence. "Please. You’re always alone, night-hunting. Demons and ghosts are your only company.”

His brother would have regretted his words had he known Lan Zhan would embarrass him again.

Red stained Lan Zhan’s white robes, spreading from his chest and dripping down to his waist. Even his cheeks and hands burnet with embarrassment, more than the spice of chili peppers.

"Have you been in good health, Hanguang-jun?" Pleasantries. "Second Brother is always worried about you. Lanling is delighted to welcome you again." Jin Guangyao’s smile was dappled with a politeness more cruel than slander. He raised his cup with a gentle flutter of his sleeve, hiding behind it as he downed the wine in one gulp.

Lan Zhan had no right to be angry at his brother for divulging the details of his punishment. It was only natural for friends to share their burdens and concerns, offer a shoulder to howl into, ease bated breaths. Not that Lan Zhan would know. 

During the Sunshot Campaign, only Jiang Wanyin had found his presence somewhat passable enough to entrust him with his worries. He had thought they would regroup in Lanling.

How ironic.

Pleasantries, more pleasantries, fake concerns, and loud gossip—all of it exploded all of it had exploded with a jar of chili sauce that Lan Zhan grabbed to ground himself. Eyes stabbed at him, whispers thundered like cicadas on a hot summer day.

Lan Zhan froze, stilled. His brother rushed to his table, and Lan Zhan stormed out.

Embarrassed, humiliated by none other than himself. Foolish and useless, offering another story for Carp Tower to gossip about for another week or two if Lan Zhan was unfortunate enough.

Lan Zhan ran, his stride too shameful for a Lan—as was everything about him.

Finding his way to his quarters in this profligate and gaudy maze should not have been a problem. He had brought spare robes; he could draw a bath and wash the red off his skin along with the memories of this dinner.

He could. He could do that if he weren’t stopped by footsteps drowning out his own. Confident, resolute, and unhurried yet fast, Lan Zhan could recognise that gait by sound alone, by the ground shaking under his feet. He had shared the same path with that man once. He always walked as if every pebble and every blade of grass crushed under his boot belonged to him, as if he owned them, had every right and reason to aimlessly destroy the harmony.

His brother had warned him that Clan Leader Jiang would be joining them in their discussions later rather than sooner.

He hadn’t seen Jiang Wanyin in three years.

He hadn’t planned on crossing paths with that menace of a man today.

"Hanguang-jun," a sharp drawl found him before Jiang Wanyin’s cutting, dark eyes did. His imposingly deep voice echoed through Lan Zhan’s body, deafening his thoughts and violently beating heart. Perhaps Jiang Wanyin, too, was wretched to remember small, unimportant things about Lan Zhan that he would rather forget, scrape out of his mind. "You are as staid as ever. What a great surprise to see you here.”

Jiang Wanyin couldn’t even see him. He made sure to trap Lan Zhan in the spot where he was anchored to the floor. Made it clear he knew, even if Lan Zhan escaped before laying eyes on that savage, attention-hungry man.

Lan Zhan sped up, unwilling to waste his breath. Jiang Wanyin sped up along with him, turning at the intersection of the hallways, his eyes—his angry eyes—immediately capturing Lan Zhan, peering into him in the dim light.

Lan Zhan didn’t want to look, didn’t want to note how much Jiang Wanyin had changed over the years. He wanted to leave as soon as possible, his gaze glued to the floor.

"Hanguang-jun," that voice, that man approached him, each breath drawing closer and closer. Soon he would make a snide remark about Lan Zhan’s appearance, mock him, and tell everyone in Yunmeng about Lan Zhan’s inappropriate mien. "You greet your superiors when they greet you.”

Lan Zhan’s head flew up, his eyebrows forming a frown that only Jiang Wanyin could irk out of him.

Nothing had changed about that resentful man. Jiang Wanyin’s cheeks were a bit hollower, for all Lan Zhan knew. His acerbic smile and scalding eyes, burning with the force of a thousand lightning strikes, remained the same as ever, irritating as usual, crawling under Lan Zhan’s skin. As usual.

His robes—that was new. Dark purples hugged him tightly around his wide shoulders. The fabric was so light, the opening revealed his legs with the flutter of his skirts.

If he could see thin silver patterns on the hems, it only meant… Lan Zhan braced himself, poised for the bile to erupt between the sinister smile.

That smile suddenly dropped.

"Hanguang-jun!" The sudden urgency in Jiang Wanyin’s tone addled Lan Zhan’s brain. He rushed forward, and within three wide steps, he was so close, Lan Zhan swore worry swam behind those dark irises. "Are you injured?”

What?

Jiang Wanyin grabbed him by the shoulders, Zidian hand pressed on Lan Zhan’s chest where chili sauce had stained his robes especially dark red. The strong grip on his skin hurt more than whatever injury Jiang Wanyin imagined him to have.

"Were you attacked?" Jiang Wanyin pulled him closer, tried supporting Lan Zhan’s entire weight.

"Clan Leader Jiang.”

"Ambushed? Isn’t your fucking brother here?" He snarled, and Zidian came to life, excited to slash through a nonexistent threat.

"Jiang Wanyin, unhand me," Lan Zhan insisted, pushing that ridiculous man away. It only compelled Jiang Wanyin to haul him closer into his constricting grasp.

"What the fuck are you saying? My disciples can tend to your wounds, keep you safe for the time being.”

Lan Zhan blinked and blinked and blinked. His head was a flurry of thoughts refusing to align into something that would make sense of Jiang Wanyin. Jiang Wanyin pulled and dragged, Zidian’s light never fizzled out.

"Fucking move or rest on me if you can’t." His scream violently threw Lan Zhan back in time, back to those three months of blood.

That had happened before, hadn’t it?

Lan Zhan resisted, stubbornly refused to move, refused to speak. The truth would embarrass them both.

"Jiang Wanyin, leave.”

"I’m not leaving you." Just like that. Were the deposits of ice they both grew in their hearts so fragile? Could chili sauce exhaust them?

Lan Zhan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Nothing had changed about this seething man. Always fond of making Lan Zhan’s life difficult.

"Chili sauce," Lan Zhan choked out, ears burning.

"What?" Jiang Wanyin finally stopped, froze. However, his hand only gripped tighter.

"I spilled chili sauce.”

Jiang Wanyin let go of him, looked at his stained hands, looked at Lan Zhan, and blushed, suddenly looking so young, boyish in his confused embarrassment. Almost shy, all that confidence, built up even more in the span of three years, gone, dissipated under Lan Zhan’s curious gaze.

"You what?”

"Don’t make me repeat myself.”

"Fuck." Jiang Wanyin stepped away, his hand moving to rub his eyes but stopping midway before he could burn himself with the spice. He glowered at Lan Zhan as if every misfortune in his life was Lan Zhan’s fault. Something they agreed on at last. Familiar and forever constant, that rancour.

Lan Zhan pulled a handkerchief out of his sleeve, extending it to Jiang Wanyin. A hint of mischief and pettiness wasn’t beyond Lan Zhan. It easy to succumb to in Jiang Wanyin’s presence.

“Keep it,” Jiang Wanyin roared, walking past him, his eyes looking anywhere but at Lan Zhan. “Disappear on me again, and I’ll fucking drown you in chili sauce,” he threatened, melding with the darkness of the halls.

Not the strangest thing Lan Zhan had been told today.

Nothing had changed about Jiang Wanyin. That thought scorched him, distracting from chili sauce drying on his skin.

[noona96n]

Yoh & Segasaki's timeline

According to Episode 7 (around the 00:33 minute mark), Yoh and segasaki have only been living together for four months. And Nikke-sensei's tweet, also clarifies that the proposal was made 3 years ago and that they’ve only been living together since March or April; which explains, in part, their shit communication lmao. 

Series timeline: June to July of year zero 

Ep 1: June 3rd (Sat)

The sunny weather forecast with Segasaki and Takatsu Reiko around the 12:30 minute mark in the latter part of Episode 1 is for 6月3日 (土). That means the present timeline, as in the drama, starts at the beginning of June; which tracks with the weather in the current episode and the weather in future episodes. Rainy season (梅雨 tsuyu) in Kanto (that includes Tokyo and Yokohama) usually starts in early June and lasts until mid-July, and, by then, typhoons already started ravaging the nation every two days lol 

Ep 2: June 8th (Thur) 

At the 8:03 minute mark, we find out that Hiyoshi Aika starts her job at EW (AHAHA WHAT A GOOFY ABBREVIATION) on the 8th of June (Hiyoshi Aika starts the broadcast by announcing the date: 六月八日). By June 10th, Yoh full-on became a sad, sulky puppy who’s pouting cutely as he made his sad stir-fry pork dinner (Yoh’s phone screen at the 9:05 minute mark reads ６月10日 土曜日). 

Around 9:56 minute mark the in-universe weather forecast shows forecasts for the 12th (Mon), 13th (Tue), 14th (Wed), 15th (Thur), 16th (Fri), 17th (Sat), and 18th (Sun) in Sapporo, Tokyo, Nagoya, Osaka, Fukuoka, and Naha, suggesting that the day that Yoh resorts to making the Teru Teru Bouzu is June 11th. (Teru Teru Bouzu is a small ghost-like white doll people hang around the house in the hope of stopping the rain and bringing about good weather. Yoh’s desperate for some dicking down lol.) So, the day Yoh got frustrated and masturbated for erotic manga inspiration is at least a day after June 11th. Yoh and Segasaki’s clothes changed by then (the most noticeable is Segasaki’s shirt and tie). 

Since the tail end of Episode 2 probably takes place on June 12th, at the earliest, we can only assume that Episode 3 and 4 take place over the weekend of the 17th and 18th. Or the next weekend after. I’m tempted to even suggest that both episodes take place on the weekend of 24th (Sat) and 25th (Sun) because of how loud the cicadas were in the background in the 4th episode with Man-san. Cicadas in Japan are no joke, guys, they are so fucking damn loud, RIP ears, you will be missed. 

Ep 6: July 24th (Mon) 

*** I think canon dates broke down from Episode 5 onward… Around the 14:47 minute mark of Episode 5, Segasaki and Hiyoshi were presenting the weather for the 7th (Thur). There’s no monthly indication but we can assume that it’s in July; July because we were just in June in the first four episodes but also because (the beginning of) July is when the (awful, terrible, no good) heatwave starts taking Japan by storm (it lasts until fucking August and even spills into September this goddamn year, I kid you not; it was horrible). But, in Episode 6, the weather forecast at the end of the episode (around the 21:33 minute mark) was for 24th (Mon). If the 7th was a Thursday, then the 24th should be a Sunday, not a Monday. 

That’s why I’m just gonna disregard the 7th (Thur) in Episode 5, though I do think it takes place at the beginning of June or the end of July. Also, if we disregard that and count the days from Episode 1 (Saturday, June 3rd), then Monday, July 24th would make sense in Episode 6. So, let's go with that.

By the end of Episode 6, it’s the 24th of July. I know this is a while from Episode 5 but if we consider Man-san’s My Idol Boyfriend manga, then it makes sense. Yoh was ‘offered a job’ by Man-san pretty much immediately after he got dropped by his editor and by Episode 7, their manga was already in print. It would take them some time to finish their manga; less than a month is a very tight time to write, storyboard, edit, and have it approved but let’s make believe lol 

Ep 7: Typhoon No. 5

At the beginning of Episode 7 (around the 00:09 minute mark), Typhoon No. 5 was forecasted to take Tokyo by storm tomorrow. That kinda checks out, to be honest. Typhoon season in Japan could start as early as mid-May and could last until mid-October, depending on how early or late the heat begins and how long it’ll last. So I do think Episode 7 takes place some time after July 24th. 

Interesting tidbit: typhoons in Japan aren’t given names but are usually referred to by numbers. 

Personal (interesting?) tidbit #1: the first year I came to Japan, the super typhoon Hagibis made landfall in Japan. It was the strongest typhoon to hit Japan in decades and it was one of the strongest and biggest ever recorded. It was hella scary, not gonna lie lol and food was all out, even from the convenience stores. Fortunately, I was living in central Tokyo and wasn’t affected. Still scared though…. And, the crazy thing was, an earthquake struck the coast of Chiba before the typhoon hit so the typhoon’s effect was compounded. Wasn’t a fun experience, 0/10, do not recommend. 

Personal (interesting?) tidbit #2: my parents visited me this passing late May to early June, around the time typhoon Mawar wasn’t waging war in the Pacific. It was not a fun experience… we weren’t directly struck by it but the effects were kinda crazy: roads were closed, trains were suspended, rivers were flooded, and shops and restaurants were mostly closed. Felt really bad cause I took my family to Hakone (booked everything ages in advance and couldn’t cancel our reservation RIP) and we were just stranded up there… thankfully the sky cleared by our last day there and we were able to catch a glimpse of Fuji on our Ashi-no-ko’s cruise and on the train back to Tokyo. Still, wasn’t a fun experience, 0/10, do not recommend. 

Japan’s a wonderful place to visit though! Just… pick the right time. (I recommend autumn (Oct-Nov) because the weather’s great, the food’s fucking amazing, and the autumn foilage’s pretty rad.) 

Ep 8: July 28th 

The date after their (mildly) kinky sexy time was July 28th (Fri). The date can be found on Man-san’s phone around the 11:00 minute mark (7月28日、金曜日). 

There’s also another time indication later in the episode around the 17:13 minute mark where Yoh and Segasaki last texted on July 26th. Segasaki was telling Yoh about the rain and Yoh’s responses were pretty frosty if I’m being honest. Their texts go like this:

Segasaki: 今日午後から雨降る (It’s gonna rain this evening) Yoh: ありがとう (thanks) Segasaki: 洗濯物取り込んどけよ (bring the laundry in) Yoh: うん (k) 

It’s… frosty. Bare minimum from Yoh. Ofc he’s just feeling guilty (about the manga situation and stuff) but, y’know… it feels cold to Segasaki. I honestly feel really bad for the guy lol, especially because, from his perspective, Yoh’s only thinking about leaving and Yoh’s touchy-feely with that editor guy, and Yoh smiles happily and fully at and with that editor guy, and Yoh’s tired from being with him. 

Anyway, the series takes place from June to July of year zero and that’s canon. There, I said it. 

Yoh moving in: April of year zero

As you can see from my shittily drawn ‘graph’, I place Yoh’s moving in with Segasaki at April. This tracks with the timeline and Nikke-sensei’s clarification as well as in-universe narrative of them only been living together for four months. But, I’m extra so I’m gonna explain why (I found out about sensei’s tweet after figuring out the timeline lol)... and it’s not just backtracking from July. 

So, in Japan, the year usually ‘starts’ in April; as in the school year and the fiscal year ends in March and starts in April. This applies to leases as well: contracts are usually for 2 years and will likely end in March. Housing is in very high demand during that time and the prices for each unit are also very expensive because of that. Of course, you can rent a unit any time of the year but the good ones are also mostly available and up for grabs in the March-April period. (Renting a unit in Japan is… an experience lol and not a fun one. My being a foreigner does not help one bit because many landlords do not accept foreign tenants no matter who you are, where you’re from, or what you’re in Japan for.) 

Anyways, as Yoh can see, I think that Yoh graduated in year zero… so, that’s a winter graduation some time in February. (People also graduate in summer some time in August but it’s much rarer because most Japanese enter uni in Spring (April). People who graduate in September are either those who extend their uni year or foreign students who enter during the Autumn intake in September because that’s when the English program school year start (in my department, at least… I entered in April and graduated my Master's 3 years later in February but it’s a somewhat special case.)

Anyway!!! Yoh graduates ‘this’ year so, that means his lease will be up too and it makes perfect sense for him to move with Segasaki around late March or early April. 

The proposal: mid-Feb —  late-March three years ago

I place the proposal at the end of Winter, beginning of Spring in year minus-three. Weather-wise, it’s plausible because we know that the day of the proposal was unusually warm for the time and February is easily one of the coldest months in Japan. And, even though Spring starts in March, warmth doesn’t really come around until later in the month or even April. (It snowed in March, once. In Tokyo. It rarely ever snows in Tokyo but it’s been snowing every other year since I came here.) 

I also headcanon that Segasaki graduated (his Master's) that minus-three year while Yoh is only in his second year of bachelor’s. My logic is that because he’s graduating, this could be his last desperate attempt to lock Yoh down and make sure Yoh’s spoken for (Yoh’s just a dumb-dumb who doesn’t recognize a proposal lol). It also makes sense for the proposal to come up at that period if we think about it… Mizuki’s graduating and Yoh could be asking him about his jobs after graduation and whatever else which, in turn, allows Mizuki to start a conversation about Yoh’s plan for the future. It’s also not uncommon for peeps to hang around uni before they start their jobs (for whatever reasons) so it makes sense to me that the proposal was in some time between Mizuki’s graduation in mid-Feb till late-March, when Yoh’s about to start his new school year and Segasaki will have to start his job. (This could be when Yoh finds out Segasaki will be working with EW and starts watching the broadcast religiously.) 

Job prospect-wise, it’s pretty solid. Segasaki’s confident that he’d be working in a high-paying job when he proposed to Yoh. If Segasaki’s graduating in year minus-three, then he’d extremely likely to already have a job lined up for him; he’s just gonna immediately enter the workforce right out of uni. This is very common in Japan. University graduates are socially expected and pressured into working immediately after finishing their studies which is why it’s common practice for them to start their job-hunting process during the second to last or last year at uni. It’s generally advised that they start second to last year in uni (B3 if you’re in your bachelor’s and M1 if you’re in your Master's) because the process is long and drawn out and it could be a very long time before a job is offered. It’s also ill-advised to do your job-hunting in your final year because final year can be very hectic for some; some B4 and M2 students need to write their thesis, do graduation projects, finish up their experiments, etc. it’s not fun to add job-hunting into the mix. So, even if the proposal happened right after Segasaki’s graduation, Segasaki would be confident that he’d be able to support both of them just fine. 

Why I don’t think Yoh did his job hunting 

I honestly don’t think Yoh did his job-hunting because:

As I talked about here, Yoh became anxious about jobs and job-hunting in general in Episode 5 and this could imply that he didn’t go through the process while he was in university. You could do it on your own, but it’s difficult. That’s why many students take advantage of the recruitment offered by universities. Many also make use of other public recruitment services. 

Yoh’s the kind of person who does things at his own pace and does what he wants. I.E. 1; Yoh is a slow walker who has always walked slow. Segasaki made a point of commenting about his pace but instead of increasing his speed to match that of his sempai’s, he continued at his own pace and said he’s been told that before, and Segasaki was forced to match his pace. Yoh’s aware of his snail's pace, he was criticized for it but said fuck all and went about walking at his speed anyway. This is very not-Japanese. I.E. #2; He doesn’t really care to socialize. That’s it, that’s the reason. I.E. #3; my guy used 俺 (ore) with the stranger seniors. Peeps aren’t expected to drop 俺 (ore) and go for 僕 (boku) when talking to seniors anymore but they’re strangers… he should be using 僕 (boku). I.E. #4; he made fucking curry rice for a sick person because that’s the only thing he can make. Curry rice. He could’ve googled how to make porridge but nah, curry rice lol. I.E. #5; arguing with his editor that the ‘I love you’ dialogue is necessary in his 20 pages long porn manga. I don’t man, Yoh’s not afraid to do his own shit and he totally seems like the kinda guy who’d fuck around and find out when it comes to his career. Which I think is why Yoh’s secured that he has a patron in Segasaki and decided not to do his job-hunting. 

Yoh & Segasaki’s first meeting: May —  June four years ago

I think Yoh first ‘met’ Segasaki four years ago; that’s his first year in university, and that would explain why he hasn’t seen Segasaki sooner. I placed their first meeting in May — June mainly because of their outfits. Everyone was wearing a Spring palette when we first saw them at the cafeteria, but they weren’t wearing any thick outer layers so that’s probably very late into Spring and early June. Their clothes also became progressively lighter throughout the flashback and, by the time Segasaki was sick, there were more layers on everyone again, esp. Segasaki, indicating that Autumn could’ve been around the corner. (Though this could just be due to the timing of the filming!)

Also, Segasaki’s friend asked for his notebook, implying that there’s a report/assignment/quiz coming up that he needs to prepare for. So, at least we know it’s definitely not the start of the semester.

On Mizuki’s Master’s level education 

I’ll be real… I’m entirely biased when it comes to Segasaki’s educational level. I have a Master's and I’m an old, I want my fav to be an old too haha. (I’m currently doing my PhD, it’s… going somewhere lmao) 

Anyway, I didn’t make him have a Master's just because… I think Segasaki has a position of seniority in the workplace despite his young age: he led the discussion and (I presume) implemented the new weather reporting system thing. He was also comfortable with rejecting the welcome dinner (歓迎会 kangeikai) for Hiyoshi… and his co-workers, who are obviously his seniors, just accept it as it is. You don’t just reject invitations to after-work dinners/parties, 飲み会 (nomikai), especially not the kangeikai. It’s a party to welcome new members; rejecting it means you’re not a team player and unwilling to bond with your co-workers to cultivate a harmonious workplace relationship, which is a no-no in Japan (please read up on 和 (wa) if you’re interested in learning why), and definitely a no-no if you’re not high-up in position. (There’s a lot of politics going on in the background that I’m not very familiar with. I understand the most basics; like filling superior’s glasses, ‘hanging out’ with superiors, being frank and up-front and coming away unscathed, power-harassment bosses forcing people to drink, etc.) So, Segasaki must’ve entered the workplace in a relatively high position; which is achievable with a Master's. 

Interesting tidbit #1: did you know, you don’t get fired from a workplace in Japan? If the company wanna lay off people, they usually just close the entire department lol crazy, I know, but it’s legit. It’s why people can be employed for life at work.

Interesting tidbit #2: not many Japanese students go for a Master's but when they do, they usually enter right after their Bachelor’s. However, there are certain majors where having a Master’s is advantageous and students are generally encouraged to go for it. I.E. my major, Architecture and Urbanism, and Civil Engineering. These majors typically take 5 years of undergrad for students to qualify as practitioners. In Japan, their Bachelor’s only lasts for 4 years and a 2 years Master’s will put them on the same level as other practitioners from abroad. (I did 5 years of Undergrad in Architecture and Urbanism and another 3 years for my M.Arch degree lol and there are years to go until I get my Doctoral RIP)

wrote this whole thing bcs of this silly lil fic lmao

[artificialfanfiction]

The Southern Gothic–ONE SHOTS inspired by songs

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Disclaimer: The content on this blog is entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes. None of the scenarios depicted here are based on real-life occurrences. Enjoy the stories and let your imagination run wild!

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pairing Jolly Karlsson x reader

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The heavy, sticky heat of the Southern summer wrapped around you like a shroud as you made your way down the dirt road. The setting sun bathed everything in an eerie golden light, and the cicadas screamed in the trees, their chorus growing louder as you approached the old mansion at the end of the lane. 

It was a sprawling, decaying estate, the kind of place that seemed frozen in time, untouched by the outside world. The white paint on the columns was chipped and peeling, revealing the bare wood beneath. Ivy crawled up the walls, winding around the broken windows like the fingers of some ancient, forgotten beast. 

You hesitated at the edge of the driveway, staring up at the house that had haunted your dreams for as long as you could remember. This place was a relic, a ghost of the past, and you had always felt its pull. But today, something was different. Today, you were not just visiting. You were returning.

The screen door banged open, and there he was, Jolly Karlsson, standing on the porch with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was tall, broad shouldered, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he watched you approach. There was something dangerous about him, something wild that made your heart beat faster, even now.

"Didn’t think you’d ever come back," he drawled, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Neither did I," you replied, your voice steady despite the unease swirling in your chest.

He didn’t smile, just tipped his head in the direction of the front door. "Well, you’re here now. Might as well come on in."

You followed him into the house, your footsteps echoing on the worn wooden floors. The inside was just as you remembered dark, filled with heavy furniture, the air thick with the smell of dust and old wood. Everything felt familiar, yet distant, like a dream you couldn’t quite recall.

Jolly led you into the living room, where a single lamp cast a dim glow over the room. He flopped down on the couch, motioning for you to sit beside him. You hesitated for a moment, then took a seat at the other end, as far from him as the small sofa allowed.

"Whiskey?" he asked, already reaching for the bottle on the coffee table.

You nodded, watching as he poured two glasses. He handed you one, his fingers brushing yours, sending a shiver up your spine. You took a sip, the burn of the alcohol sharp on your tongue, but it was a welcome distraction from the thoughts swirling in your mind.

"You look like you’ve seen a ghost," Jolly said, his voice low and amused.

"Maybe I have," you replied, not quite meeting his gaze.

He chuckled, a sound that was more bitter than amused. "This place’ll do that to you. Ain’t much left here but ghosts and memories."

"Why do you stay?" you asked, genuinely curious.

Jolly shrugged, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "Ain’t got nowhere else to go."

There was a silence, thick and uncomfortable, stretching out between you. You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t dare look at him. Instead, you focused on the whiskey in your glass, swirling it around as if it held the answers to the questions you didn’t want to ask.

"I heard you’ve been up North," Jolly said finally, breaking the silence. "City girl now, huh?"

"Something like that," you replied, your voice distant. "But it’s not what I thought it would be."

"Yeah?" he said, leaning back on the couch, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And what’d you think it would be?"

You sighed, setting your glass down on the table. "I thought I could escape."

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched you with those dark, intense eyes. "You can’t run from who you are," he said finally, his voice softer than you expected. "No matter how far you go, it always catches up with you."

You knew he was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. The truth was, you had spent your whole life trying to outrun the shadows of your past, only to find yourself right back where you started.

"Why did you come back?" Jolly asked, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

You hesitated, struggling to find the words. "I don’t know," you admitted. "Maybe I was tired of running."

He nodded, as if he understood. Maybe he did. "This place has a way of pulling you back," he said. "No matter how far you go, it’s always there, waiting."

There was something in his voice, a sadness that made your chest ache. You looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, you saw the weight he carried, the years of loneliness and regret etched into his features.

"Jolly," you said softly, "why didn’t you leave?"

He met your gaze, his eyes dark and unreadable. "What’s out there for me? I’ve seen the world, and I’ve seen this town. Ain’t much of a difference, when it comes down to it. At least here, I know the ghosts by name."

You didn’t know what to say to that. The truth was, you had always known that Jolly was tied to this place, that he was as much a part of it as the crumbling walls and the overgrown garden. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier to accept.

"Maybe you don’t belong here anymore," Jolly said suddenly, his voice rough. "Maybe you’ve outgrown this place. Outgrown me."

The words cut deep, and you felt a pang of guilt in your chest. "That’s not true," you said quickly, but the lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a moment, you thought he might say something, but then he just shook his head, a small, sad smile on his lips.

"You don’t have to lie to me," he said quietly. "I’ve always known you were meant for bigger things. I just hoped…"

His voice trailed off, and he didn’t finish the sentence, but you knew what he was going to say. He had hoped you would stay. That you would choose him, choose this life, this place. But you couldn’t, and he knew it.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, the words feeling inadequate.

Jolly didn’t say anything, just took a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around him like a shroud. "Don’t be," he said finally. "We all make our choices."

There was another long silence, the kind that felt both heavy and empty at the same time. You could feel the distance between you growing, even as you sat side by side on the couch. It was like watching something slip through your fingers, something you couldn’t hold on to no matter how hard you tried.

"I’ll be leaving in the morning," you said quietly, breaking the silence. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

Jolly nodded, as if he had expected it. "You do what you need to do."

You stood up then, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. "Take care of yourself, Jolly."

"You too," he replied, his voice rough, almost choked.

You turned to leave, but before you could take a step, Jolly grabbed your hand, pulling you back. His grip was firm, almost desperate, and when you looked at him, you saw something in his eyes that made your breath catch in your throat.

"Don’t forget about me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I won’t," you promised, the words coming out before you could stop them.

Jolly nodded, letting go of your hand, and you felt the loss of his touch like a physical ache. Without another word, you turned and walked out of the house, not daring to look back. 

As you drove away, the mansion fading into the distance, you felt a heaviness settle in your chest. You had always known that leaving would be hard, but you hadn’t expected it to feel like this. Like you were leaving behind a part of yourself.

But as the miles stretched out before you, you knew that this was the right choice. You couldn’t stay, couldn’t let yourself be pulled back into the past. You had to keep moving forward, even if it meant leaving Jolly behind.

Yet, as the road wound on, the echo of his voice lingered in your mind, a constant reminder of what you had left behind.

“Don’t forget about me.”

And you knew, deep down, that you never would.

[dimicul]

// this is a little scrap of a chapter i found when i was writing a fic but i never got round to finishing it :( but yeah it’s angsty hell, to give some context, you had used Ghost to get closer to your family/country by being in a relationship with him and over the months you had been piecing information and stealing from the base. you end up leaving and working for a team. the rest will explain!//

Gun It

A static crackle emits from the transceiver and Ghost is levering his large body against the wooden crate, squinting through the scope of his sniper, attempting to breathe in through his nose.

There’s no way he’s letting this go.

Days, weeks, months put into tracing the convoy, training in pure frustration - an enemy arms shipment is about to cross the border into Urzikstan, at which the point the enemy intends to use it to bolster a major counteroffensive. They believe it’s an ambush.

Simon’s mentally counting down seconds in his head, his white mask inked with moonlight as his eyes train on the chopper whirling in the sky above them.

“They’re taking a route to the north, over,” The static crackles again and Johnny’s voice snaps Ghost out of his trance - the man was always able to just do that. Break him free from whatever he was doing.

Purely because his voice was annoying.

“Roger.”

“Marines are rolling in now, L.T. You and Sergeant are leading the way on this, yeah?” He’s saying, and Ghost resets his jaw, the wind picking up around him as the chopper nears.

“The Sergeant?”

“Keegan, of course.”

As if on cue, there’s a rumbling of a car engine a few paces away and he glances momentarily at the tall, lean man swiftly manoeuvring himself from the side of the car, boots landing on the sand with a thud.

“Fucking hell.”

“He’s on station.” Johnny crackles again above the soft whirring of crickets and Ghost swears he can hear the traces of amusement in his voice. Punk.

“Copy. All set ‘ere.”

Keegan beside him now, ducking behind the crate - he’s glancing at Ghost, then at the chopper, positioning himself the same way. There’s a cigarette between his forth and second finger, tucked in.

“Eyes on two. Armed on the chopper.” Ghost drawls, shifting ever so slightly - he can see bodies shifting, clad in khaki green uniforms, pistol on their sides. Keegan exhales tiredly.

“When can we bomb this thing down, Soap?” Keegan’s mouth moves to his transceiver. Ghost wants to laugh at his impatience. Stupid fuck doesn’t know what he’s in for.

“Aye, with them holding five or six crates of explosives in there? I think not, mate,” Johnny chuckles.

“Why the hell not? Easier death.”

“Graves. He’s in there. We shoot ‘em, he’s dead.” Ghost remarks with the slight glance at the masked man, who raises a brow.

“And? Hell with that man, useless fuck.” Keegan cusses under his breath, removing the cigarette from his lips as he exhales the smoke. Gunpowder. Tar. Sand. It’s all he can smell.

“He’s got intel on this shit.”

Wind raises around them, muting the sound of buzzing cicadas and crickets, harshly pressing against Ghosts ear. It demands to be heard. He’s tilting his head a bit and watches the soldiers on the chopper say something to another. It stops suddenly.

“Eyes on ‘em. They’ve stopped it, Johnny.”

“Course they have, they can see the marines further down that hill.” There’s a sigh after his sentence. Eyes flicker from one soldier to another, sniper cocking in their direction, watching through the lenses.

“They’re shooting,” Keegan drops the cigarette in his hand, regaining his position.

“Remember what I said. No gunnin’ ‘em down yet.”

“But-”

A barrage of bullets are being shot down, piercing the silence between Ghost and his counting; there’s shouting, faint distant screams, and he notices the chopper gaining proximity.

“Alejandro? Do you copy?” Ghost holds his breath momentarily. He was in the cockpit.

“Fuck,” Keegan hisses, lowering his sniper as he leans up to squint in the distance - he can’t make out if it’s citizens screaming for help, or his very own team mate.

“Backup. You need backup.” Ghost recites into the transceiver. It crackles. He can’t help the panic in his voice as the bullets begin to multiple in blasts.

“If we just shoot at the soldiers,” Keegan pointed out, voice raised over the firing. Ghost has no choice but to nod, regaining his position, hands tightening around his weapon and he begins to lower his scope onto the first enemy, onto the second…

You.

You’re stood there. Your mouth is bound tight with a balaclava, arms shifted as you hold the weapon in your arms, the same arms he was holding only a week ago, those same eyes furrowed in concentration, a contrast between your soft, unsullied skin. Your skin. God he’s missed your skin.

“Ghost?” The transceiver crackles.

A wound opens up. It seeps with blood, pouring down his arm, the betrayal causing his heart to sink in the most familiar way. He’s felt this before. He’s been here before, he’s lost someone before - Ghost doesn’t notice the way Keegan’s shouting is becoming louder, how bullets are being fired one after the other, no, it’s as if he’s been blacked out of his body, eyes glued on you.

You left. In the middle of the night, you had packed your things and sneaked away, and he’s been punishing himself over and over, on the brink of insanity, thinking he had done something wrong; maybe he was too rough with you. Maybe, you had realised you deserved better. There was a possibility there might’ve been someone else, or you had become sick with his behaviour, fuck, he had been driving himself mad all month.

“Back up’s been sent, but you’re gonna have to try and steady on,” Johnny’s voice intercepts the static between Keegan and Alejandro, and he nods.

You’re standing there, grinning a little, saying something to the soldier beside you. Your eyes are still doing that same thing when you grin, your nose scrunches up and Ghost wants nothing more than to be touching you again, holding you to his chest, kissing the same hands you’re using to point the gun.

At his own team.

“How long? I’ve sniped down one, I don’t know if they see us.”

“Good lad, just keep the chopper in the sk-”

“Shoot it.”

Keegan snapped his gaze towards Ghost, a confused expression etched onto his face; there’s a glow of red and orange dusting the man’s white mask, and for once, Keegan realises this is what Ghost was infamous for. For not holding back.

“But, you said-”

“Gun it fucking down.” There’s a constriction building in his chest, his heart wearing at the seams - a lighter being held to the edges, a painful yet bittersweet feeling. “Shoot the damn thing.”

“Si? Kee, what’s he doing?” The transceiver crackles. Keegan doesn’t respond, his chest heaving up and down slowly, eyes trained on the man beside him.

They’re in position, snipers aimed at the boxes. Their transceiver crackles over and over with Johnny’s faint voice, but through blurry tears, Ghost fixates his scope on the end of the chopper - it’s filled with crates. Gloved fingertips brush with against the trigger.

They let go, and Keegan would be lying if he said it wasn’t a pretty sight.